


The Gifts We Give

by Venivincere



Series: Gifts [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 22:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2789804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venivincere/pseuds/Venivincere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the greatest gift you can give is yourself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gifts We Give

**Author's Note:**

> Companion piece to be read after The Gifts We Take. Thanks to Dementordelta for the beta.
> 
> Originally posted at Skyehawke here: http://archive.skyehawke.com/story.php?no=773 on January 5, 2004.

Voldemort was coming.  
  
Harry knew it, no matter that he practiced Occlumency to the best of his abilities. At intervals,   
his scar still blistered, pulsing like a white-hot coal. He could tell Snape knew, too; he clutched   
his arm in tandem with the pulses in Harry's scar. It was late. They sat hunched shoulder to   
shoulder in the cold and damp, in a cave that was little more than a half-blocked crevice in the   
hillside. They dared no magic: no heat, no light, no warming spells, nothing that could leave a   
magical signature, nothing that could guide the enemy to them.  
  
Of course, the enemy had already found them first, yesterday. The encampment had been   
scattered, their army fled or dead. Two good things happened by Snape's hand. He got off a   
message to Dumbledore of the attack on the encampment, and he helped Harry escape when it   
was clear there was no one and nothing left to defend. A particularly savage burst of pain drew   
Harry back from his memories and made him clutch his forehead and wince.  
  
"He's getting closer," Snape said, massaging his arm.  
  
"I know," said Harry. "Do you think he'll find us?"  
  
"Mr. Potter, I am not here to dispense hope."  
  
"Funny that, I actually think you are."  
  
Harry felt Snape turn to him a little in the dark. "I did what was necessary."  
  
"It coincided with what you wanted, though, that kiss."  
  
Snape sighed. "Perhaps."  
  
Harry thrust his hands in his pockets and said nothing. He  _did_  have hope, some. But it   
was late and cold, and he wasn't sure if the hope he felt was more of a personal hope than   
anything else. Voldemort was drawing nearer, and he couldn't see a way out of a final   
confrontation. And while he wasn't yet despairing, he wasn't flush with confidence, either. But   
sitting close to this man, this bringer of so much turmoil, so much hatred and respect mixing only   
as well as oil and water, made a corner of his heart shine. And even though the light of it was   
blocked by the pall of the future, by the reasonable expectation that this and all lights shining   
within him would be snuffed out very soon, forever, still it  _was_  hope, and Harry was   
willing to let it spill over from that region of his heart into his head, and to illuminate his   
curiousity about the man sitting against him in the dark.  
  
He found himself fingering the snitch in his pocket, the metal warm from having rested in the   
crease of his leg for so long. "How did you get this snitch?" he asked.  
  
Snape didn't answer right away. "I presented Madame Hooch with a set of four International   
Standard snitches. I asked her to take a look at them, see if they were something she thought the   
school could use." He paused. "She knows me well enough to have asked my price before she   
took them. She was more than willing to make the trade."  
  
"It must have cost you a great deal of money," Harry said.  
  
"The cost is none of your concern, Mr. Potter."  
  
Harry was silent for a bit. Then, "How can I thank you for this?"  
  
"There is no need. You already have."  
  
"A kiss. All I got to give you was a kiss. How is that payment for anything?"  
  
"As I said, Mr. Potter, the  _cost_  is none of your concern!" Harry could hear Snape's   
breath hissing through his nostrils in the darkness. Eventually, his breathing calmed. "What you   
gave me was more than adequate thanks."  
  
 _Hot hands held in his, pressed to his breast and the slow reach up on his toes, his lips meeting  
Snape's and in a moment of surprise, parting, then a taste, a fleet breath of tea and sugary lemon,   
then sinking back down as the wry half-smile began, as Snape's cheeks turned a momentary   
plum... "And now I have another good thing."_  
  
"Professor, tell me about the good things in your life."  
  
"No."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"They are also none of your concern."  
  
"But they are. Well, one is. It's just that -- well, you said when you left the other day that -- that   
I had given you something else that was good. You said you have friends." Harry paused. "Am   
I one of them?"  
  
Snape said nothing so eloquently that even if he weren't pressed into Harry's side exuding   
warmth, Harry would have felt his presence. "In a manner of speaking, yes. You are my   
student. We have worked together in the Order now for awhile."  
  
Harry sighed, and let himself relax into Snape's side. It wasn't what he was looking for, but, "Do   
you even like me? I used to think you hated me. I hated  _you_."  
  
"I didn't like you, much, no."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I thought you were spoiled."  
  
"When did that change?" But Harry knew already. Snape was a highly skilled Legilimens.  
  
"During your Occlumency training. When I saw that your family were more cruel to you than I   
was." He paused. "I don't blame you now for hating me then, though before I knew that, I used   
to."  
  
Harry digested that for a moment. "But that didn't make you like me any more. You didn't treat   
me any nicer."  
  
"No."  
  
Angrily, "Why not?"  
  
"Because Dumbledore indulged you, and I couldn't see that it was doing you any good."  
  
"Indulge me! He kept me in the dark! He should have told me about the prophecy," Harry said.  
  
"Stop whining, Mr. Potter. He did what he thought was best."  
  
Well, that was true. Harry thought Dumbledore's best was very good, though he knew he hadn't   
enough information to properly judge. Until yesterday, they hadn't lost so much ground they   
couldn't have caught up. "I should have trusted him more."  
  
"Perhaps."  
  
"If I had, it might have made a difference, yesterday. Maybe yesterday wouldn't have   
happened." Oh Merlin! Maybe he was to blame for yesterday, too! Cedric, Sirius...and fully a   
third of their army...  
  
"Stop wallowing in self pity, Mr. Potter."  
  
Harry hastily Occluded.  
  
"Better."  
  
"Thank you, Professor."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"I'm afraid, you know," said Harry.  
  
"I know."  
  
"Are you?"  
  
"..."  
  
"I would think you'd be used to it, by now."  
  
"No. Each situation is different."  
  
"Professor, may I kiss you again?"  
  
Silence. "It's not a good idea, Mr. Potter."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"It isn't right. There are rules."  
  
"I'm seventeen!"  
  
"You're a student."  
  
"But we've done it already."  
  
"Correction. You kissed me, before you knew it wasn't acceptable. Now you do. I cannot   
allow it. Please don't force the issue."  
  
"I see," though he didn't.  
  
After an awkward silence, "Harry, I could get in serious trouble for it."  
  
"..."  
  
"Under Ministry law I could be barred from teaching ever again. The Headmaster would be   
forced to fire me with prejudice. There would likely be a criminal trial in front of the full   
Wizengamot. If there were, I would be forced to testify under Veritaserum. If the court   
understands it to be the case that  _I_  kissed  _you_ , I would likely spend the rest of my   
years in Azkaban.  
  
"I barely made it past the court the last time I was there. Many thought I was guilty, despite   
Dumbledore's testimony and my answers under Veritaserum. They would see it as their duty to   
put me away forever, were something like this to occur. Do you see now why I cannot kiss you,   
ever, while you still remain a student?"  
  
"Yes." And he did.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Do you still have hope?" Harry asked.  
  
"..."  
  
"The other day you said I gave you hope. How could you possibly think that now? I couldn't   
save them." Harry felt like squirming, but didn't.  
  
"Mr. Potter, do you really have such a short memory?"  
  
"It's not self-pity, Professor! I want to know. Really. Do you still have hope?"  
  
Harry waited. Finally, "No."  
  
The sound of Harry's fist hitting his thigh echoed oddly in the narrow chamber. "Well, then. Did   
you have it two nights ago, or were you lying?"  
  
"Mr. Potter, you were despondent.  _You_  were losing hope. I could not allow that to   
happen, when so many of our fighters looked up to you for moral support."  
  
"So you lied to me?"  
  
"Yes. For what it's worth, I'm sorry."  
  
"I don't believe you."  
  
"I don't blame you. I'm not particularly honest."  
  
"No. You were sincere, two nights ago. You weren't lying."  
  
"Mr. Potter, I have made a career of lying for longer than you have been alive."  
  
"So you were lying? How come I couldn't feel it, then? Professor, did you know I can tell when   
you lie? I cast the lightest of Legilimens on you. It's like a gauze curtain. When you lie, it's like   
a breeze rippling the curtain."  
  
Snape said nothing.  
  
"You weren't lying, then."  
  
Harry felt Snape shake his head in the dark. "No. But now..."  
  
"Now? Because of the attack yesterday? Did you lose hope after that?"  
  
"Mr. Potter --"  
  
"Tell me!"  
  
"Cast your Legilimens, if you dare."  
  
"Professor, be reasonable. You know I wouldn't. Tell me."  
  
A long silence, then, "Yes."  
  
Harry turned away from Snape.  
  
"But I didn't lose it because of anything you did or didn't do."  
  
"Oh? Why then?" Bitter.  
  
"Because we lost a third of our army yesterday. Because now, this war really does rest on the   
outcome of the prophecy."  
  
"You mean, it rests on me. On my abilities."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And because of the attack, you lost your faith in me." Skeptical. Hurt.  
  
"Mr. Potter, the outcome of this war  _does_  rest upon your abilities." Snape sighed. "But   
it also rests on Voldemort's hatred of you. Make no mistake on that score. I have seen first-hand   
his reaction to the very mention of you. What happened yesterday... well, it was a forceful   
reminder of just how much he really does despise you, how much he wants you dead. He didn't   
care if he had to kill all four hundred people in the encampment, as long as he got you."  
  
"And? So, suddenly, from that day to the next, you lost your faith in me? You know, you   
 _said_  you knew that I would be able to do what I needed to. You believed you were   
telling the truth. What changed?" Harry was shaking now.  
  
"Harry, I'm scared, too."  
  
"Tell me! What changed?"  
  
"No."  
  
" _What changed?_ " Desperate.  
  
"Harry!" A sound like a sob, on an exhaled breath, and suddenly Snape turned and pulled Harry   
to him, wrapped his arms around Harry's chest and pulled him tight to his own, his chin resting   
on Harry's shoulder, his mouth to Harry's ear. Harry listened to his heaving breaths calm down.   
  
"Harry. I don't hate you."  
  
"I know. I don't hate you, either. Not anymore. Not --"   
  
"Please, Harry. Hear me out." Snape paused. "I care about you. You know that. I know that.   
But I didn't realize quite how much until you kissed me. Oh, Merlin! You kissed me, and it was   
innocent and  _wrong_  and you meant it truly, and you  _shocked_  me, and I realized   
when the Death Eaters were pouring into the encampment that you were far too naïve to ever win   
against this madman, that no matter the excellence of your training or the pureness of your desire   
to see this war finished, you had not lived long enough to even recognize the surface of his   
cynicism, or understand even a tenth of the depravity of his mind. Not one whisper of a hint did   
we have about yesterday's attack. We never even predicted a chance of it.  _None_  of us,   
least of all you, possessed the deviance of mind to predict yesterday's attack.  
  
"How can I have hope, Harry? How can I have hope against that?"   
  
"I don't know. But you did. It was real. You weren't lying. That means it's still there."  
  
"No, Harry."  
  
"Maybe it's overshadowed, but it's still there. I know it."  
  
"No."  
  
" _Yes!_ "  
  
"No."  
  
"Then prove it."  
  
Harry felt Snape's arms leave his chest and the hands move to his shoulders. He felt himself   
turned around, his face gently encircled with Snape's hands, felt his face pulled close to Snape's   
own until Snape's breath ghosted on his lips, and Harry could smell the tea and sugary lemon of   
him just before he felt the press of lips upon his own, and the mist of breath as those lips parted   
his own and that tongue claimed his mouth with the softest, most intimate caress.  
  
Slowly, gently, he was released.  
  
"You kissed me. But you said -- the Veritaserum -- and you kissed me, anyway." His stomach   
roiled with sudden despair.  
  
" _You kissed me, anyway! How could you!_ "  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Look, even if you don't have hope, you need to fight. I need you to fight," said Harry.  
  
"Maybe. Maybe I should be teaching  _you_  more ways to fight."  
  
"Do you honestly think it would make much of a difference at this point?"  
  
"No," said Snape.  
  
"Neither do I."  
  
They sat in silence for awhile.  
  
"You need a reason to fight," said Harry.  
  
"I don't have any."  
  
"You do, Professor. You have me."  
  
Harry felt Snape's shoulder shake next to him and thought for a moment he was crying until he   
heard a sharp intake of breath and the low rumblings of laughter. Harry had never heard Snape   
laugh before, and considering he just gave the man his heart, it crushed him to hear it now.   
  
"Harry --"  
  
"Sod off, Professor."  
  
"Harry, I wasn't laughing at you."  
  
"..."  
  
Harry felt Snape's arms move up and heard the rustle of fingers carding through hair. "Oh,   
Merlin! My luck is cursed."  
  
Harry snorted. "I'm beginning to think the same of my own."  
  
Snape said nothing for awhile. Then, "In all my years, you're the first person even remotely   
suitable who has expressed an interest."  
  
"Oh." Harry thought about that for a bit.  
  
"And it's impossible. You can't possibly want me. Not really. I've never given you anything   
remotely palatable. No kindness, no mercy. No affection." They sat in silence for awhile.  
  
"Professor..."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"If we survive... I mean, I'm willing to wait. It's only one more term."  
  
"Harry --  _why?_  Why would you?"  
  
"Look, I need someone to fight for! Someone who can defend themselves and fight with me.   
Everyone,  _everyone_  is looking to me to save them, and they are doing their part, but I   
can't think of them or I get overwhelmed.  _None_  of them chose this, and neither did I.   
Professor, no matter what you say about choice, you were offered one. You took it. You're the   
only one who did. You could have gone to Azkaban, but you didn't. You chose to fight. Just for   
once, I want someone who chose to do this to be with me to be here. Someone to be with me   
who I  _don't_  have to feel responsible for. Someone who chooses to be with me because of   
the fight, not my name. Merlin! You're the only one I know who  _never_  falls for the   
name, and who  _always_  pulls me back to myself because of it! You do it by your very   
choice, and I need that, Professor. Severus. I  _need_  that."  
  
"Harry --"  
  
"Please!"  
  
"Harry!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I accept."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Their wands were out before they recognized the fluttering of the new dawn light was due to owl   
wings. Harry watched as Snape held out his hand to the bird and untied the message by hand. It   
was addressed to both of them, in Dumbledore's handwriting. Harry listened as Snape read.  
  
"Thank Merlin they've been caught!" Harry said.  
  
"Voldemort is still free."  
  
"But cornered." He paused. "You still want to come with me?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Let's go, then." He stood, and offered Snape a hand up. They stood for a moment, stretching   
the stiffness and chill from their limbs. Harry headed toward the entrance.  
  
"Harry, wait."  
  
He turned, and Snape was standing right there, and he was leaning in, and Harry tipped his face   
to meet him and the soft brush of his lips.  
  
"Maybe I do have hope."  
  
Harry cast the lightest of Legilimens, and it floated still as if it were rigid and thick. No sign of a   
breeze. Snape, expecting it, smiled.  
  
Harry did, too. He took Snape's hand holding the note and squeezed, then pocketed the note.  
  
"Come on, let's get it over with," and clutching their wands, together they walked out into the   
morning light.  
  
~fin~


End file.
